


Give Me Mercy

by MeetTheTank (orphan_account)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood and Gore, F/F, General Zombie Violence, Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MeetTheTank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The richest scrapper in the apocalypse gives a ride to a lone wanderer trying to get to Alaska. Easier said than done when bandits, cults, and the walking dead all seem to be after them. Chock full of adventure, steamy bits, and general zombie violence. A lil something for everybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative title is “Just Fuck Me Up.” This fic takes bits and pieces from The Last of Us, The Walking Dead, Z Nation, and a bit of Fallout, which are all things you should play/watch because they be great. Enjoy!

They thought it started in Africa. Then they thought it was spread through birds. Some thought it was a strain of mad cow, and some far reaching theorists thought it was Corydyceps. The only thing anyone knew for sure was that whatever this was brought the dead back to life, and if you got bit by a walking corpse, you turned into one minutes later. It was a mass extinction, moving so fast that it wiped out over 80% of people on the planet in under three years.

In the early stages of the outbreak, there was talk of a vaccine being developed. A joint effort between Iknik Blackstone Varrick, a regular DaVinci of an inventor and Hiroshi Sato, CEO of Future Industries. At first it seemed guaranteed that there would be a vaccine within the month of their announcement, but after a year of no results, people lost faith and began to prepare for the worst. Towards the last months of the world that was, it had been rumored that Hiroshi resorted to less than humane practices in a desperate attempt to make the serum.

The summer of Year Two was known as Black Summer. Power grids shut down, governments and military disbanded, and most of the remaining population starved to death. Or turned to unthinkable acts to survive. In reality, it never really stopped being Black Summer. Most survivors just referred to it as a turning point. Things became a blur afterwards, people started planning only a few moments ahead, and losing track of days. Year Three came without most people knowing, which brings us to the Summer of Year Three.

The woman driving down a long, empty stretch of road went by an alias. Her old one carried weight. She used to be someone pretty important, then the world ended and that was that. She was a normal person with a set of extraordinary skills, and those skills had kept her alive. Not her name, not her money, and certainly not her family. But that was a story she didn’t want to revisit. Ever.

She leaned out the window of her truck, letting the hot summer wind whip through her hair. The truck speeding down the dusty highway was pretty much a mobile anti-Z fortress. With a converted engine optimized to use less gas and make less noise, plenty of storage for all her trade goods and personal effects, along with a spot right in the back for sleeping, it was a traveling home, store, whatever it needed to be. It was the closest thing she had to a child, she even affectionately called the mobile fortress her baby. That and a few specialized weapons kept well hidden, but the truck was her favorite.

The woman was a scrapper. There couldn’t have been a more lucrative job in the world. With all the busted cars just lying around, and no one alive who knew how to put them together, it was a gold mine in bater weight. Not to mention all the other things that could be built with old car parts and scrap metal. Bullets, custom weapons, you name it. So long as they had things to offer, she was always ready to make a trade.

She almost drove past the poor lost soul wandering the empty road. Maybe it was her compassionate side looking to get her in trouble, but they were alone. One person wasn’t going to be a problem if things turned hostile. She could afford to be generous. Hell, they might even direct her to a settlement she didn't know about.

"Need a lift?"

The woman looked like she had been on the road for a while now. Despite the muscles, the scrapper could tell that this vagabond hadn't eaten in a while. Her dark skin was pulled tight across her cheekbones, giving her a gaunt appearance. What surprised the scrapper was that her blue eyes still had life in them. Usually, people who looked this starved had duller, more lifeless ones.

She flashed a tired, crooked grin, “Yeah, thanks.”

The muscled wanderer jogged around to the passenger’s side, her wolf-tail and backpack bouncing with her movements and the wind. The scrapper opened up the passenger door for her, and she climbed in, giving another grateful smile.

“Thanks, you don't know how long I've been walking.”

“Don't mention it.” the scrapper said with a beaming smile, and started off down the road again. “So, where are you heading?”

The wanderer shifted about in her seat, “North.” she flashed a small smile and held out a wrapped hand, “I'm Korra, by the way.”

“Sami.” she shook her hand while keeping one on the wheel. “How far North are you going?”

“Um...” Korra rubbed the back of her neck, “Pretty far...”

The scrapper hummed to herself in thought. She didn't go further North than the Boston ruins for trading, and the next stop on her trade route was a settlement near the D.C. Wastes. 

“It's not further than Boston is it?” 

Korra just laughed a little, “Yeaaaahh...It's...Alaska.”

“Wow.” Sami said in disbelief, “That is....yeah thats pretty far.”

The more she thought about the more it made sense. The cold would keep the Z's frozen, or frozen enough for them to move at a crawl. Though the drawback was that crops couldn't be grown, plus animals for food were few and far between. She supposed fishing was an option, if the waterways weren't frozen over. 

“Why Alaska, if I may ask. You got family there?”

Korra nodded, “Bingo. Small town called Old Harbor. Off the coast of the mainland.”

This woman had quite the journey ahead of her, and Sami didn't envy that at all. It was hard enough maintaining a trade route on the East Coast. She couldn't imagine what it'd be like to trek across what remained of the country.  
Sami dug her map out of the center console with one hand, and unfurled it across both of their laps. “Right there.” she said, pointing to the north most mark. “It's a settlement just outside the Boston Ruins called Republic City. It's my last stop before I turn around. I can drop you off there.”

“Right.” Korra said, “And...where are we now?”

Wow, she must have been traveling for longer than Sami first thought. “Here.” she pointed to a line going through North Carolina. “It'll take us a while to reach Republic City, even if things go perfectly. Which they never do. Not to mention I can't skimp out on the stops along the way, so if you gotta get there in a hurry, you might wanna find another trader to bum a ride off.”

“Oh I-..” Korra waved her hands defensively, “There's gotta be something I can do in return! I don't have much to trade but-”

“Hey,” Sami interrupted, “Don't worry about it. I'll think of some menial tasks you can do. Guard duty, heavy lifting, sorting, and the like. Little things like that will help out a lot.”

Korra looked distracted, and for good reason. They were coming up on a small pack of Z's meandering in the middle of the road. “Puppies and kittens...” she muttered.

What did she just-... “Puppies and what?”

Sami brushed the confusion aside. Korra had to be talking about the zombies, because there were neither puppies nor kittens in sight.  
The scrapper sighed as she came to a stop near the shambling hoard, “...Normally I'd just drive right through them. But there's been some trouble with the front axels and I don't wanna risk damaging anything this far away from a settlement or ruins.”

“How do you wanna do this, then?” Korra asked, unsheathing a machete that looked rather worse for wear. 

Sami looked over the hoard briefly. The wanderer looked eager for a fight, but Sami was more cautious. Sure there was only about a dozen or so Z's, but there could be who knows how many just off of on the side of the road lying in wait. If they got cocky, they could easily be overwhelmed.  
“I think I got something...” She put the truck in park and climbed into the back portion.

The back of her truck was full of all sorts of weapons, any one of them could take out a Z easily and then some. But she wasn't looking for something to rip them apart, she had a particular gadget in mind. She picked up a small can with a few knick knacks jutting out of the sides.

“What's that contraption?” asked Korra, who looked at Sami with a bit of a worried look.

“If it works,” Sami wound a cog on her invention, “It should act like a noisemaker. Z's like musical sounds, I've noticed. The more high pitched, the better.”

She pushed the sunroof open and stood on the center console. The noisemaker started to emit its vaguely musical sounds, grabbing the attention of the small hoard. Once they started shuffling towards her, Sami flung the noisemaker off into the foliage.  
Korra had been skeptical about the whole idea, but that melted away once she saw how the zombies all but sprint over to the noisemaker. Her blue eye were wide with amazement. Without even getting out of the truck she had taken care of the zombies! This woman was a genius! A certified apocalyptic genius!

She beamed at the scrapper as she flopped back down in her seat, “That was amazing!”

Sami returned her smile, “Thanks, now that I know it works, I can get to work making more of these things. Though...” She got lost in thought as she started driving again, “Hm...finding the parts for it might be a bit hard. I haven't seen too many music boxes lying around. Maybe if I start looking in more homes...Could be dangerous though. Though I suppose anything roughly the same pitch might work instead. A small bell might-”

Korra realized that the scrapper had stopped talking to a few sentences ago. She also realized that the unnaturally talented woman had a habit of talking to herself, or more specifically, her truck. Sami would say things like “I'll fix up your axels at the next stop” and pat the steering wheel affectionately. A sneaking suspicion crept into her mind that the woman she was bumming a ride off wasn't entirely sane. But to her credit, who was.

“Does it talk back?” Korra asked.

Sami looked like she had just been caught with her hand in the metaphorical cookie jar, “...I'm sorry?”

“The truck, does it talk back to you?” The wanderer smiled a bit to let Sami know she was playing around. For the most part, anyway.  
The scrapper focused on the road, but Korra noticed a little red tinge to her cheeks. “Sorry.” Sami replied, “It's just a habit I picked up while on these long road trips. Helps me keep track of all the projects I have. And no, the truck doesn't talk back.”

After a small laugh shared by the two women, the trip lapsed into silence. Korra leaned against the window, her eyelids drooping slightly. She had been walking for god knows how long, barely sleeping the entire time. It was too dangerous half the time to get some decent sleep, especially on the road. So Korra had taken to going for days without sleeping, and crashing anywhere closed off where there was a bed like object. Obviously this got her into many scrapes as well. Sleep deprivation and the Zombie Apocalypse didn't mix.

Exhaustion caught up to the wanderer after a few minutes of watching the grass and the occasional shack pass by. Korra drifted off to a thankfully dreamless slumber, with the engine and Sami rambling to herself as background noise.

She awoke some time later to find herself alone in the truck and wrapped in a heavy blanket. Her body was stiff from the unconventional sleeping position, so she took a moment to stretch out her aching muscles. A soft groan followed by a yawn escaped they young wanderer.  
They must have driven for a while, because they weren't anywhere Korra recognized. Instead of the harsh direct sunlight, a heavy canopy of trees filtered it down to a tolerable level of cool shade. She could hear the faint sound of running water, or was it people chattering? Perhaps both?

And where the hell was Sami? She wouldn't have just left her here, would she? Korra rationalized before the worry got the best of her. The scrapper probably didn't want to wake her while she looked for supplies or something like that. If there was a river nearby, Sami would probably refill her water supply.

Pulling off the faintly jasmine scented blanket, Korra decided to explore this new area a bit. She definitely didn't expect to find such a tranquil place, and not even a trace of a Z in sight. It was almost unnaturally zen, which was a welcome change from feeling like she was in constant danger. Even still, her hand was still on the hilt of her machete.

A well worn path that lead deeper into the forest caught her attention. Figuring that it would be simple logic for Sami to follow it, Korra began what turned out to be a short walk through the woods. Around a bend, much to the wanderer's surprise, was a large wooden gate sparsely decorated with oriental patterns. For what Korra could tell, it was well maintained. No vines creeping up its side, or animals making their homes in the wood. Someone lived here.

For curiosity's sake, Korra knocked on the heavy wooden gate. “Hello?” She didn't expect a response, so when a male voice hollered back at her, Korra's hand immediately went to her machete.

“Hold it, hold it!” A bald man in orange in yellow monk robes was leaned over the top of the gate pointing an assault rifle at her. “Hands up, please.”

The conflicting imagery wasn't lost on Korra, and if this man didn't have her lined up for a headshot, she might have laughed a little. Slowly, she put her hands in the air. “Relax, I'm not gonna hurt anybody.”

“What's your business here.” the monk said, his gun still trained on the wanderer's head.

Korra sighed, “My...F-” Hm...what exactly was Sami to her? They had just met a few hours ago, she wasn't exactly sure how she felt about referring to the scrapper as a friend. “My...teammate,” Oh yeah that was much better. “Did she come this way? A little taller than me, black hair, red headband, big mechanics gloves?”

Finally, the monk lowered the rifle. “Oh! You're with the trader? She mentioned a friend before. Hold on let me get the gate open.”

Korra was a bit stunned. Here she was having this little dilemma, while Sami probably didn't bat an eye at it. She wasn't entirely sure what she thought about this. The scrapper was either very observant, or incredibly naive.

The monk greeted her inside what she assumed to be a monk commune, “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to turn in your weapons.”  
She was in no position argue, but not having weapons left Korra feeling naked.

“Don't worry.” the monk said, “This place is very safe. We are a non-violent group.”

“Really?” Korra said with a laugh, “That rifle had me convinced otherwise.”

“Someone's gotta keep the Afflicted and bandits away.”

Huh, that was the most respectful name for zombies Korra had ever heard. “You got a point there.”

The monk lead her into the main part of the commune. From what Korra could see, it had a circular layout. The main plaza held a small park area and a dining hall, and from there cabins radiated out with small paths connected the homes to the plaza. This place was probably some sort of summer camp before the apocalypse. Not a bad place to set up in her mind. 

A few monks dressed in similar orange and yellow robes milled about the plaza, tossing odd glances at Korra as she walked by. Once they saw she was with the guard, most continued about their business or exchanged casual shrugs towards whoever they were with.  
The armed monk lead her to a small garage around the back of mess hall. A few jerry cans were strewn about, along with other bits of machinery Korra couldn't place. It smelled like gasoline, grease, and old metal. A total opposite of what the rest of the commune was like.

She saw Sami in the back, talking with a monk that sported blue arrow tattoos and a pointed beard. A man that Korra thought she would never see again.

“Tenzin?!”


	2. Chapter 2

The last time Korra saw Tenzin was the week before the first outbreaks began. He had gathered up the entire Martial Arts Club to say his goodbyes before leaving with his family. Once everything went to hell, Korra had assumed the worst. She did with all of the people she went to college with. Yet there he was; she couldn't stop herself from practically launching into a hug. 

 

Tenzin stumbled back from the force of the flying Korra, but held onto her tightly like she was one of his own children.

 

“Korra! You're alive!” he shouted, unable to stop the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

 

Sami expected the wanderer to say something snappy in return, but all that came from her was garbled sobs and things that may have been words. The scrapper had seen her fair share of reunions, but this one was one of the most touching yet. 

 

“What are you doing this far south?” Tenzin asked after a while, “I thought your plan was to go to Alaska.”

 

Korra pulled back from their hug and wiped away the residual tears, “I got sidetracked. Ran with this group who was headed south for a while. I guess...I didn't realize how far we had gone.”

 

Sami saw something cross Korra's face, a brief furrowing of eyebrows and pursed lips that vanised so quickly Sami though she had imagined it.

 

“But...Now I'm heading back home. I ran into Sami on the road and she offered to take me all the way to the Boston Ruins.”

 

“Did she now.” Tenzin said, looking at the scrapper with a raised eyebrow. 

 

Naturally, Tenzin had been distrustful of Sami when she first showed up with that mobile fortress of hers. She had the power to completely wipe them out, but instead she practically gave them arms to defend themselves. Sami's Scrap Truck had only visited a few times since he and his family settled down here, and all those times Tenzin had made her leave her weapons and truck outside the gates of the commune for safety. 

 

He glanced between Korra and Sami, “Do you know this merchant?” he asked.

 

Korra shook her head, “Never seen her before she picked me up.”

 

Tenzin stroked his pointed beard in thought, some soft “Hmms” coming from him periodically. Korra stood there confused while her scrapper escort held her breath in anticipation. The tension between Sami and the monk was palpable, that is until three rambunctious children burst into the garage.

 

“It's Korra!!” the three screamed in unison.

 

The wanderer herself couldn't have looked more overjoyed to see the three children, and Tenzin's stern face softened a little at the sight. Korra excitedly scooped up all three monk kids, lifting them up like they were a tiny bunch of grapes.

 

“Jinora! Ikki! Meelo!” she said with a tearful laugh, “I'm so happy to see all of you!!”

 

“We missed you so much!” Jinora said, wiping tears out of her grey eyes.

 

Ikki did small hops in Korra's grip, “You're gonna have to tell us about all of your adventures! Did you make it to the ocean? Were there Afflicted coming out of the water? Did you see any horses! Was there a handsome dream boat you met along the way! I gotta know!”

 

“You'll be so jealous when you hear about how I trained the squirrels to do my bidding!” Meelo announced, a little too proud of this fact.

 

Korra laughed and cried as she held the monk kids, “I missed y'all too!”

 

The kids dragged Korra out of the garage to show her around the commune and find their mother. It didn't look like the wanderer had much of a say in it, her head craning back to look at Sami and Tenzin for help. Both of them just smiled and waved as Korra and the kids went on their grand tour.

 

“Sweet kids.” Sami said, a genuine smile plastered on her face. Children were a rare sight in this world, and happy kids were even rarer. She may have had disagreements with Tenzin, but if his kids were happy, then he must be doing something right.

 

Tenzin turned to her, his brows furrowed and grey eyes intensely staring down the scrapper. “What are you gaining from this.”

 

She jumped a bit, “I'm sorry?”

 

“What are you gaining from taking Korra to the Boston ruins.”

 

Sami looked at the monk with a confused look, “I-...Nothing. Nothing other than a helping hand here and there. That's all.”

 

“Merchants like you never do anything without gaining something.” he said in a low growl. “What are you going to do with her.”

 

That was it. Sami had it up to her limit with this man and his distrust. “Look,” she began, her voice matching Tenzin's tone. “I don't know who you think I am, but I do not use people like that.”

 

Tenzin stood over her, glowering down at her with hate in his grey eyes. “I know exactly who you are, Asami Sato.”

 

The scrapper practically reeled back, her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to lash out at Tenzin, call him crazy, tell him that person was long dead. Instead she stood there, mouth hanging open, unable to say or do anything. 

 

Asami thought she had buried her past, or at the very least people would forget she even existed after three whole years. With as famous as her father was, naturally people saw her on TV, magazines, and trashy tabloids. She was fairly well known, despite being homeschooled till 9th grade. People recognized her when she walked down the street, paparazzi used to follow her whenever her father got into trouble, things like that which made her old life a circus. 

 

“H-How...” she muttered after a long bout of stunned silence. “I thought-”

 

“You think that just because there's been an apocalypse and that three years have passed that people would forget?! That what your father did would just wash away?!”

 

In a second, Asami's face shifted from terrified to furious, “What does Hiroshi have to do with me.” she nearly growled. 

 

“The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Sato. Given the chance, you'd do exactly the same thing he did.”

 

The scrapper's blood was practically boiling in her veins. “How dare you.” she said through clenched teeth, “How dare you even think about comparing me to him.” Asami stormed up to Tenzin and yanked him down to her heigh by his robe. The orange fabric was strong, but still threatened to tear in the scrapper's iron grip. “I am nothing like that man. I do not lie and steal and kill for personal gain.”

 

For once, Tenzin was too stunned to respond. Asami had always been respectful and composed around him and the other monks. This outburst caught him so off guard that his pre planned speech went flying right out of his mind. He eventually did regain his composure, and wrenched Asami's hands from his robe. 

 

“I swear...if you do anything to hurt Korra, no matter how many miles and Afflicted you but between us, I will hunt you down, Sato.”

 

“You have my word, Master Tenzin.” she growled back, venom dripping from every word, “Korra will be safe.”

 

With that, Asami Sato turned on her heels and stormed out of the garage. They could find parts somewhere else down the road, she just had to get Korra and get away from here. 

 

Korra ended up getting the grand tour of the commune from Tenzin's kids, and she couldn't help feeling a bit jealous of what they had here. She counted at least three large gardens filled with vegetables she'd only dreamed of seeing outside of a can, a beautiful rock garden like the one Tenzin had them care for back in the old club, and even cows! Honest to god live cows, a whole herd of them! Ikki told her that they don't use them for meat, but the most important thing they could make was penicillin. That was the most impressive thing that Korra learned on that little tour. If she wasn't dead set on getting to Alaska, she'd ask Tenzin if she could shack up here.

 

The final stop was the kid's and Tenzin's cabin. It was the same as all the others superficially, but upon entry, Korra saw the benefits of being married to a skilled woodcarver. Tenizin's wife, Pema, had been practicing the skill before the Z's started becoming a problem. Obviously she had been honing her craft all through the apocalypse. What little furniture there was, was ornately carved with complex designs yet sturdy enough to withstand life with four rambunctious children.

 

Pema herself was cooking vegetables over a simple stove with the help of her youngest child, when Korra and the other kids arrived. 

 

“Mom!!” Ikki screamed, causing Pema to jump, “Korra's here!!”

 

Whatever irritation Ikki may have caused their mother melted away the moment Pema saw Korra. 

 

“Oh my land and stars...” she said with the faint hint of a southern drawl. Pema didn't say anything else, instead she pulled Korra into a tight hug that felt like her ribs were being crushed. 

 

“Ack! It's-..good to see you too, Pema.” 

 

Korra attempted to wrench her arms free to return the hug with little success.

 

“Where have you been!” Pema nearly shouted, “Tenzin and I have been worried sick these past three years! You just disappeared from the university!”

 

The wanderer gave a small laugh, “I, um, found a group to run with who were headed south. They won me over with the 'stay on the move' logic.”

 

“Oh you've got to tell us what's been happening! Come, sit, I'm almost finished with dinner.”


End file.
